


Redeemable Asshole

by ladyofreylo



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, This Is Where I Leave You (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M, Happy Ending, Hockey, Hockey AU, Love Story, Romance, Sex, Smut, This is where I leave you AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:20:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29596143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyofreylo/pseuds/ladyofreylo
Summary: Former high school hockey star Phillip Altman goes to work in the family sports store--10 years after his glory days are over.  He meets Rey Johnson, a hockey coach for a Mites team, who knew him when and remembers him as an arrogant asshole.  Now, he'd like to win her over while helping her with her project to bring hockey to kids who can't afford to play.  Is Phillip Altman really an irredeemable asshole?  Let's find out.
Relationships: Phillip Altman/Rey (Star Wars), Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 71
Kudos: 98
Collections: The 50 Shades of Rey





	1. Bored, Always Bored

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to FlavorofKylo and AliCat114 (AliReads2Much) for reading and helping me sort out the story. Thanks to AliCat114 for checking my hockey knowledge and helping me score a goal with this story.  
> Hockey terms defined at the end!  
> Check out my other 2 stories: [The Penalty Box](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22758526) and [Drop the Puck](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22107688)

Phillip Altman heaved the tub of kid’s hockey jerseys out of his Porsche trunk and leaned it against the side of the car. He shut the trunk, locked the car, and picked up the bin. He saw that a piece of sharp plastic had made a small scuff mark on the black paint. He cursed under his breath. This was how his day was going.

He’d rather not be at this particular location doing this particular activity.

After his father’s funeral, after his relationship with Tracey went belly-up, he took a job working in the office of his brother’s sports store dealing with special orders and team equipment. It was all fine. The job was easy enough. He got to sit around in the backroom twirling in a nice office chair and looking at the internet. Cushy job...until a hockey contract popped up. Great news for the store. Bad news for Phillip. 

He had to drive these sample jerseys to the Flint arena--where he’d reigned supreme on the ice back in the day--to help a coach outfit a kids’ team with their game jerseys. Ray Somebody or other--or Rey, he remembered. There’d been lots of emails from this Rey person about the Mites team. Phillip was already annoyed--and bored, always bored.

But he’d promised his bro that he’d actually try to make this job work. He’d even said it without an eye roll. He patted himself on the back for that. His brother tended to make him feel like he was five years old and Phillip desperately needed to roll his eyes every day when he spoke to Paul.

He hadn’t thought this choice of jobs through, however. He’d left hockey behind ten years ago when he blew out of this backwater town and the last thing he wanted to do was be reminded of his past glory days. Especially since little had gone well for him in the ensuing years.

The familiar smell of the rink hit him when he walked in. It was a combination of sweat, ice, popcorn, and detergent. He used to live in this rink when he was in high school. And here he was somehow--back--and wishing he was elsewhere.

He pushed through the big double doors to the area outside the locker rooms. It used to have a big table and he’d tried on a lot of jerseys there himself in the foyer by the rinks. Sure enough, that fucking table was still there, beat up and scratched from puck buckets and skates and all the shit hockey players slammed down on it. He dropped the bin of jerseys on the table, pulled out his notes, and went looking for Rey.

He figured a Mites’ coach would have to be in one of the locker rooms helping the little ones get into their gear. He was right.

Locker Room C was filled with a group of jabbering kids and parents kneeling in front, trying to wrestle the wiggly kids into gear. A woman stood by with a clipboard. She wore warm-ups, skates, and a helmet with a clear visor.

She looked up expectantly when he walked into the small space, narrowly avoiding a ball of clear tape that sailed by.

“Now, Mikayla,” the woman said. “We don’t throw tape. You could have beaned Mr. Altman.”

Phillip had no idea how this woman knew his name.

She stepped forward on her skates. “Mr. Altman, I’m Rey Johnson.”

Phillip felt his eyebrows rise on his forehead. Rey was female? In skates, she almost looked him in the eye and she was holding out a slender hand. He shook it and decided he should close his mouth. He hoped she wouldn’t notice his amazement but suspected from the twist of her lips that she knew full well he was caught off guard. He guessed too that she enjoyed that moment when men realized they were dealing with a woman hockey coach.

“Kids,” she said loudly, “We’re going to try on jerseys to find your size so don’t put your regular jerseys or helmets on. Bring them with you when you’re finished dressing.”

Without a backward glance, she opened the door and walked out of the locker room with Phillip on her heels. He had, he hoped, regained his aplomb when he snapped his jaw shut. He decided not to say something stupid like, “hey, you’re a girl.”

Rey’s warmups, he noted, fit nicely over her cute hockey butt and firm thighs. He had perhaps lost a bit of the roundness that hockey gave to a player’s ass through multiple skating drills. But he enjoyed looking at her. Until she caught him and glared at him. He tried a smile that worked on other women, but this one rolled her eyes and turned her back on him. That was okay, though, because he took a last peek at her ass before pulling jerseys out of the bin. Phillip spread out the jerseys according to size and sorted out the paperwork to catalogue names and sizes of the players.

Soon the children filed out and stood poking each other and giggling while Phillip pulled jerseys over their heads and pushed arms through the long sleeves. He knew what he was looking for in terms of fit and made detailed notes. Rey and a parent helped keep the line moving and, after a while, the fitting was complete.

“Thank you, Mr. Altman,” Rey said briskly.  
He murmured something while staring out onto the ice as the kids stood at the door while the Zamboni drove by. He felt an old familiar desire bubble up. He remembered the clean feel of blades on freshly polished ice. He remembered the rush of cold air under his helmet and the sense of freedom that skating fast and furious brought him.

He suddenly realized he was staring, lost in thought.

“Phillip,” he said suddenly.

Rey raised her brows. “Pardon?”

“You can call me Phillip. Mr. Altman was my dad.” His gaze drifted back to the rink.

“Of course,” Rey said.

He jerked his attention back to her. “Well--” he started.

“Would you like to stay and watch the practice, Phillip?” Her bright hazel eyes searched his face.

She knew, he thought, with a small shock piercing his heart. She knew how much he wanted to be out there again.

He shrugged. “Sure.” He wasn’t dressed for sitting in a cold rink, but what the hell?

<>

Somehow, Rey thought as she sliced her way through the ice, one sports store rep, Phillip Altman, wormed his way into skating out with the Mites during practices. He was right behind her, impossibly tall in skates and helmet. He looked crazy as hell with his toque over top of the helmet but she remembered that he used to do that as a teenager. Oh, yes, she remembered him.

He didn’t remember her--she knew that when he saw her for the first time. Why ever would he? A big hockey star in high school like him would never remember a girl hockey player on a bullshit girls’ team that never got to do anything serious. He played on top travel teams and won trophies. The girls team was House league only and barely could scrape up enough other teams to play.

And here he was, Mister MVP, skating and stick handling like he was a fucking pro. Rey had to laugh, though, because he had no stamina. He was breathing like a freight train and had clearly been off the ice for a while. It might come back to him, slowly, but he was ten years older. She bet she could take him in a stick and puck session, his size and former record notwithstanding.

And she was almost ready to ask for the sheer fuck of it.

She resisted the urge. She also resisted the urge to bop him when he made a suggestion for a drill.

“Mountains are a great way to build up their strength,” he said enthusiastically. “We used to do them all the time.”

Rey eyed him. “I did too, but these kiddos are little and just starting out. Most of them barely know how to skate, much less snowplow stop and turn around and all that. Give them a little time, there, Gretsky.”

He looked like he wanted to argue. His chin strap moved for a second like he was planning to open his face and make a statement. Rey was ready for it. She’d bite him in half.

He blinked a couple of times. “I just think--”

“You’re not the coach, Altman. Don’t bother thinking,” Rey snapped and skated off. She was tired of men like Phillip telling her what to do.

The practice was over soon after. Rey found herself unlacing her skates next to a quiet Phillip in an empty locker room. She could tell he wanted to say something but yanked his laces instead.

“I’m the coach,” Rey began. She never backed down from establishing her authority with hockey players. They were an arrogant, misogynistic bunch on the best days.

“I realize that,” Phillip stated. “I was only trying to help.”

“Why?” Rey stopped tugging her laces and turned to face him. “What could a guy like you possibly want?”

His hand stilled. “A guy like me. What the fuck do you know about me?” He hunched over a little like he was expecting a blow.

Rey pressed her lips together and remembered every bullshit thing those boys had said to her and her team. “Recapturing your glory days? Using my team to do it?”

He blanched a little and Rey felt a twinge of pity for him. She wondered if she was being too nasty for no good reason. Well, she had a reason but it seemed useless to take it out on a has-been like Phillip Altman.

“Maybe,” he snarled. “Maybe I was just trying to help you since I know something about hockey.”

“And I don’t? I’ve been here longer than you.”

He yanked his skates off one after the other. “I never said that, Sting-Rey.”

She stared at him. Her old nickname from the Herricanes, the team she played for in high school.

“You remember me?” The words came out as a whisper when she meant to roar.

“Took me a fucking minute, but, yeah, I remember the chip on your shoulder. How you hated us so much.” He pushed his skate guards on the blades.

Rey laughed. It was not a pleasant sound. “I hated you guys? No, no, wrong. You and your snotty team hated us. _Girls don’t play hockey_. Isn’t that what you said as you strutted by the door of our locker room?”

“I was fifteen fucking years old. I didn’t know my ass from my elbow,” Phillip stated. “I don’t believe that now.”

Rey pulled her skates all the way off and put the guards on them. “Yeah, that’s all fine. But it doesn’t go away, you know. People still think that. Parents. Male hockey players in beer leagues. Stupid individuals who don’t want to support our program.”

Phillip looked at her. “I understand, but you don’t have to be mad at me. I support it. I’m here trying to help you.”

Rey tugged on her shoes. “I appreciate it.” She sagged back onto the bench. “I’m being a shit. I do appreciate it, Alt. I do.”

They sat in silence for a moment. Rey raked a hand through her hair. It was a mess as usual. She heard the voice of her last foster mother trying to turn Rey into a lady: “That helmet makes your hair stand on end, girl. Why do you want to do boy’s sport?” Rey shook her head to dump the memory out of her brain. She could give a fuck what her hair looked like.

Phillip suddenly scooted closer to her. “Go out with me.”

Rey sat up. “What the fuck?”

Phillip gazed at her with a puppy-dog look on his face. He blinked his hazel brown eyes at her and gave her a rakish smile. “No, really. Go out with me on a date. Anywhere you like.” That must have gotten him lots of dates.

It didn’t work on Rey. At least that’s what she told herself as she stared at his lips and wondered how many women he’d kissed. “Now, why would I want to do that? I know what you’re like. You think I don’t remember?”

He sat silently staring at her. She felt a blush creeping up to her cheeks and she cursed her freckles for popping when she blushed.

“I’m a grown fucking man, Rey. I know you and my idiot family don’t think so. But I am. I’m not that asshole anymore.” Phillip pushed his dark hair, dampened from his helmet, off his forehead.

Rey got up and gathered up her hockey bag. She stuffed her skates into it. “Anyone who has to tell others he’s a grown man, probably isn’t one.” She hoisted the bag and grabbed her stick on the way out the door.

“Fuck.” 

She heard him shout it as she walked down the hall.


	2. Lazy, Hockey-Quitting Ass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey and Phillip go head-to-head on the ice.

Rey figured Phillip wouldn’t show up for the next practice--if he remained true to original form. Phillip Altman was not known for keeping commitments, unless he so desired.

But she was wrong. He was there, pulling on his skates, yanking the laces tight, and shooting dark looks in her direction.

She cheerfully said hello and he all but growled at her. He muttered to himself something about hockey-playing women, which she ignored.

She smiled to herself and sat down on the bench in the kids locker room.

“Sting-Rey,” he said suddenly.

“What?” she answered absently. She was busy inspecting the edge of her skate.

“You and me. On the ice after practice.”

“Squirts have practice.”

“Not on the other rink, they don’t. There’s just open ice on South.”

Rey looked up at him. “Fine. You and me. Woman to man. I’m going to kick your lazy, hockey-quitting ass.”

“Doubt it,” he said.

“You’re weak and have no stamina,” Rey commented in a bored voice.

“It’s coming back.”

“You smoked way too much dope--not to mention cigarettes--and now you’re not an athlete.”

“I’m still an athlete,” he protested.

Rey walked over to his jacket and took the cigarettes out of his pocket. She threw them in the trash and the lighter followed with a satisfying clink. “Prove it.”

“I barely smoke,” he ground out. “And those weren’t yours to throw away.”

“Whatever,” she said. “You’re weak and I’m not. I can run a practice and take you on afterward.”

“We’ll see,” he said, slapping his helmet on his head.

<>

Phillip was determined. Rey Johnson, fast little forward that she used to be, wouldn’t get the best of him. Granted, he always played defense--and truthfully not in years--but he would not let her goad him. And he would get her to go out with him somehow.

“Sting-Rey,” he hollered and sprayed her with snow.

She spluttered and gave him an evil look. “What?”

“If you can get a hat trick within fifteen minutes, you don’t have to go out on a date with me. But if you can’t, we go out somewhere and have some fun.”

Rey rolled her eyes at him. “You want me to score on your ass three times? Shit, I can do that in ten minutes. I don’t need fifteen, goalie.”

“Not playing goalie, Pussycat. I’m playing defense. Which I’m very good at.” He skated backwards zig-zags around her.

“Sure,” Rey said carelessly. “If I can’t get a hat trick, I’ll go out with you.”

“On a date,” he clarified. He skated forward, smoothly crossing his feet one over the other.

“Sure,” Rey agreed. “What-the-hell-ever.” She held the small white board and scratched out a few easy plays for the kids.

“You have to be nice to me, too.”

“Huh.” She pointed a marker at him. “Don’t change the damn rules.”

“There are no rules.” He grinned at her and skated off in another shower of snow mentally rubbing his hands together.

He watched her under his visor, how she skated smoothly and effortlessly, how she blew her whistle and ran the kids through the drills. She showed them each drill first, slowly skating around cones with her stick in front of her, and then got them lined up to follow the leader. He jumped in to divide up the line of kids, so each child could go through the drill more than once. He was able to help with form, pick up someone who fell, and tie an errant lace or two. He found that he really enjoyed watching each kid work to smooth out their skating. He was actually having fun--and he wasn’t bored for once. He didn’t feel like an outsider--or a world-weary snark who felt the need to comment on everything. He was a hockey player again, sharing knowledge with a younger generation.

After practice, he and Rey helped the parents in the locker room, since many of them were not used to all the equipment their kids were strapped into. Rey brushed up against Phillip a couple of times, turned bright pink, and murmured an apology. Duly noted. She wasn’t completely annoyed by him. He took that as a win. Even if she did score a hat trick, she might still be willing to go out with him…

<>

Phillip opened the big metal door, skated out on the ice, and dropped a puck or two before Rey got out there. He skated around the rink to warm himself up a bit more. Working with the kids didn’t do much to get him loosened and ready to play. He started skating mountains, skidding to a stop at each demarcation on the ice, and returning to the goal each time. He heard Rey bang the door shut behind her and join him in his drill.

They skated side-by-side for a few moments, scuffing the ice up with their blades. Then Phillip skated over to the net and put a puck on his stick. He slammed it, hard, in Rey’s direction. She caught it on her stick and winged it back in a blistering slap shot aimed at Phillip’s head. He ducked and the puck flew over his shoulder--and into the left corner of the net.

“Not fair,” he shouted. “We haven’t had a face-off.”

Rey leaned on her stick. “One,” she shouted.

“Fuck,” he huffed under his breath and skated over to her after scooping the puck out of the net. “Face-off first, Sting-Rey.”

“Fine, Alt, let’s go.”

He was so much taller than Rey, but she had a gleam in her bright hazel eyes that meant business. Phillip dropped the puck and Rey battled him for control, clanking her stick into his. He hadn’t underestimated her ferocity--not one bit. He pulled the puck away from her and skated down the ice, stick handling, using his longer legs to outpace her. If he could tire her out, he might slow down that shot and keep his head on his shoulders. He had visions of his brain rolling around inside the crease.

Unfortunately, too many cigs and lack of serious hockey practice caught up to Phillip. He himself was tiring as Rey chased him around the rink. She dove and pushed him with her shoulder. It hit him in the ribs and he skidded slightly. It was just enough of a diversion for her to scoop that puck up and skate it to the other side of the rink. She could have simply made for the nearest net, but instead she barreled off to the farthest net. Phillip cursed and used his long legs to catch up. Which he did but he found himself battling with her for control. He could have smashed her into the boards but she wasn’t padded up. Instead, he made for the crease and stood like a goalie, hoping she didn’t aim the puck in a problematic location. 

Instead of aiming for Phillip’s body, Rey aimed over his shoulder where he couldn’t catch the puck. He had no blocker or mitt, other than his regular glove, and no shoulder pads meant he didn’t want to take a puck in the shoulder. At that velocity, it could do some serious damage. He tried to catch it with his stick and missed.

The puck slammed into the net.

“Two,” Rey shouted.

“One,” Phillip hollered back. “First one didn’t count.”

Rey skated on one foot pumping her arms up and down in a little victory dance. Phillip gritted his teeth and snapped the puck at her foot. It hit and she jumped. 

“Ouch. Not fair. Penalty,” Rey shouted, skating over.

He grinned at her. “No victory dances. That’s the penalty. You could forfeit and wind up having to go on a date, be nice, and give me a kiss.”

Rey blinked at him and blew a stream of breath out at him. “Ha. You wish,” she said.

He laughed as she stuck her freckled, pinkened nose in the air and skated out toward center ice. He followed with the puck.

“One more goal and that’s it. Game over, Alt,” she stated.

“Nope. Two more. And your time is running out, Sting.”

“Huh, drop the damn puck.”

He did and she battled him again for dominance over the puck. He briefly wondered if she would try to dominate him in the sack, too. He lost focus for a moment thinking of her on top of him.

Of course, that image cost him as she swiped the puck and made for the net again. He was definitely winded but pushed himself to catch up with her. It was like the old days, being so dog-tired toward the end of a game and then finding that willpower to push on at all costs. He remembered the feeling of giving a shit, of wanting to win, of pushing his body and mind. And he ignored his tiredness and reached out wildly to grab the puck.

And Phillip Altman did something he’d rarely ever done once he became a hockey player.

He fell.

He miscalculated his balance and Rey gave him a tiny push--and he fucking fell on his ass. He scrambled up listening to her giddy laughter.

She made for the net while he slowly, painfully got to his feet. Fuck. He gathered his miniscule reserve and took off like a shot, though his leg was hurting and his behind felt like it was bruised to hell.

Rey scored the goal easily while Phillip skidded up to her. She skated into the net and he barreled in behind her. She stopped and he got tangled up.

He fell again, this time almost directly on top of Rey, and they ended up in a mass of netting. He rolled off her afraid that he had hurt her with his body weight.

She turned and hit him with her gloved hand.

“Asshole, get off me.”

“Sorry,” he said, rolling off her and hauling himself up. “You okay?” He offered her a hand, which she predictably ignored.

She got to her feet quickly and efficiently, like he used to do. “I think so, no thanks to you, you big monster. Are you trying to kill me?”

“No,” he said, brushing himself off. “I’m trying to date you. Just fucking go out with me, would you?” He stood looking at her. “Just… Please.”

Rey blinked at him. “Do you still fuck around, Phillip Altman? I know how many girlfriends you had--at the same goddamn time. Do you think I’m stupid?”

He looked down at the ice, feeling every bump and bruise and every year that had passed since he left this shithole town.

“No and no.”

Rey scraped her skate on the ice. She leaned down and picked up the stick. “I’ll buy you a beer at Skaters Lounge.”

He raised his head. It was better than nothing, he supposed. “That sounds good,” he said.

“Then we’ll see,” she added.

Phillip decided it wouldn’t be wise to do his own victory skate.

<>

Rey decided not to say anything to Old Man Altman as he walked gingerly into Skaters. She’d definitely run him through the wringer, though not completely on purpose. He just didn’t have his stamina or legendary balance anymore. 

He sat with a wince.

“You’re going to have bruises,” Rey commented. “Sit tight. I’ll grab us a couple of beers.”

Phillip grunted in assent and shoved a hand through his hair.

Rey brought back two bottles and placed one in front of Phillip.

“I did warn you.” She watched him tip a bottle up to his lips and drink.

He eyed her. “I suppose you did. Back in the day, there would have been no contest.”

Rey took a sip from her own bottle. “Not necessarily,” she said. “I was just as good an athlete as you. We played just as hard. None of you guys ever bothered to find out.”

“Guilty,” Phillip said. “I’m sorry I was an asshole about it. I considered it a ‘powderpuff’ situation.”

Rey shrugged. “Hockey is hockey, Alt. Same game, same rules. The players just happened to be girls.”

“Tougher than you look, huh?”

“That’s it. We could have used a little support from the boys’ teams to help boost attendance and interest in our games. But whatever.”

“No one ever talked to us about it. The adults had the same bad attitude.”

Rey laughed. “Yeah, I know. I was there and heard it all. Girls shouldn’t play hockey. Girls can’t play hockey.” 

Phillip had the grace to look abashed. “I said some of those things.”

“I remember that, too.” Rey watched him shift uncomfortably in his seat. It was really too small for his long frame.

“Is that why you started coaching?” 

Rey nodded. “At first. But then I realized that I could do some good.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Tell me more about the program I’m involved in.” He grinned.

This was Rey’s baby and she was always eager to talk about it. “The Flint First Hockey Project is for kids from families who can’t afford to play otherwise--like the kids on our Mites team. This year, the program raised enough cash to fund one team fully, with used equipment and skates. Now we’re letting them have a season, as long as parents can get them to the rink.” She paused. “Truthfully, though, I’ve even picked a kid or two up when the parent couldn’t bring them.”

Phillip perked up. “I could do that, if you want me to. Save you the trouble and you can get to the rink to get set up.”

Rey eyed him. “In your Porsche? The one your sugar mama paid for.”

Phillip pressed his lips together. Rey realized she hit a nerve--again.

“Yes, that one. I can fit hockey gear in it. And who knows, some kids might want to ride in a Porsche.” His voice was low and tight. “And how the fuck do you know the origin of my car?

She wondered if she had gone too far, though she’d never been one to shrink from sharing her opinion. What had Phillip Altman been thinking dating that woman?

He had put his head in his hands and was rubbing his eyes. “She was pretty and hot. I liked her. Don’t judge me.” He raised his eyes.

Rey gazed back. “Your therapist. Really?”

“She dumped me,” he muttered. He fiddled with his beer bottle. “It doesn’t matter. I’m trying to date you instead.”

Rey toasted him. “A worthy goal.”

“So you’ll do it?” He looked so eager that she almost laughed.

“I might,” Rey said suddenly. She felt kind of bad for saying mean shit to him and kicking his ass on the ice. Maybe she did owe him a date.

“The Firebirds have a home game next week. I have season tickets.”

“So do I,” Rey said. “You sit in your seats and I’ll sit in mine.” She laughed at his outraged expression.

“That’s not a date, Johnson.”

“It’s a start,” Rey said helpfully.

He just looked at her. “Yes or no, Sting-Rey? Are you in or are you out?”

Rey paused for a moment. “In,” she answered decisively. “I’m in.” Going to a game would be fun. She rose and stretched. “I have to run. We can figure out the ticket situation later, but I really have to get home and jump in the shower.”

Phillip grinned. “Can I come along?”

“Absolutely not.” Rey picked up her bottle. “You can shower right here in the locker rooms.”

He made a face. “No one wants to do that. The men’s shower is… disgusting.”

Rey laughed. “Better go home, then.”

“All right. Let me know who I’m picking up for practice.” He got his phone out. “You have my number?” He shook his phone. “Battery’s dead. What the fuck?”

“I got it. Be in touch. See ya, Alt.” Rey waved to him as she grabbed her gear and walked out.

<>

Two little ones, Smoot and Oterion, ran into the locker room, bags flapping on their shoulders. Smoot, whose real name was Jolone, hollered as he ran.

“Slow down, slow down,” Rey said as they both slid into the room.

Phillip sauntered in behind.

“Mister Coach let us ride in his car,” Oterion shouted. “It was lit.”

“I see,” Rey said, looking at Phillip, who smiled blandly at her.

“Coach Rey, he has a _Porch_ ,” Smoot enthused. “A real Porch. My uncle had one but it got put in the shop and I don’t think he got it back.”

“Porsche,” Rey corrected absently.

The boys’ eyes were shining.

“Mister Coach can take us home, too,” Oterion said. “He said so.” Oterion raised his eyes to Phillip’s face for confirmation.

“Yep, but you guys have to mind Coach Rey and work hard. Can you get your gear on?”

“No,” they said in unison.

Other kids started coming in and Smoot and Oterion found themselves treated like celebrities. All the kids wanted a ride in the “Porch,” much to Rey’s amusement. Phillip was about to have his hands full.

He shot Rey a helpless look and she shrugged. She didn’t like to say _I told you so_ , but…

After the practice, Rey watched Phillip troop outside with kids at his heels. They were all going to inspect the car and watch the two luckiest boys ever drive away.

Rey jumped on the empty ice to do some drills and prepare herself for her own game. She skated mountains, then stick-handled up and down the ice, swirling and curving around all the lines, first right, then left. She heard the door open and turned. 

Phillip stepped out and skated up to her. “May I join you?”

“Sure,” she said. “I’m about halfway through, but you can catch up.”

“I’ll do mountains at the end.” He paused. “Pass the puck?”

“Sure,” she said.

They skated and passed back and forth, slow at first, then faster, then harder, then farther apart. Often Phillip lost the puck and sometimes Rey missed it, but she could tell that he was beginning to hone the rusty skills.

She stayed longer than she would have by herself and she enjoyed the friendly competition and companionship.

Phillip was breathing hard but obviously pushing himself. Rey found herself impressed by his dedication--though she’d always known he was a stellar athlete. She wondered how he’d lost his way.

He started skating mountains, when Rey skated over to her water bottle. She watched him for a minute, enjoying his lithe grace and long, long legs. He should have been a forward like her because he skated fast and furious. It seemed a shame that he had to guard the goalie instead of making patterns around other players with the puck on his stick.

She watched him do sideways skate drills where he lifted his feet off the ice and almost danced sideways. Back and forth. A defensive set of moves.

He leaned over, panting, after doing a set of three.

“Fuck,” he hollered. “I’m so out of shape.”

Rey leaned on the railing. “You’re getting there. I see you working.”

“Thanks, Coach.” He waved his stick. “Beer?”

She laughed. “Bad for you, Alt. You should stick to water after practice.”

“Water?” He shook his head. “Doesn’t have the same ring to it. I’d ask you to dinner tonight but I’m a sweaty mess.”

“Me, too,” Rey called. She skated over. “I have to get home, though. Early morning tomorrow.” It was a bit of a fabrication, but she felt like she needed to be cautious around Phillip Altman.

Phillip tipped his own water bottle up and drank. “A bunch of kids now want me to pick them up.” He wiped his mouth. “I’m setting up a schedule tomorrow. They told me you have the names and phone numbers of the kids.”

Rey laughed. “Phillip, what did you do?”  
“Made myself very popular,” he said with a grin.

“All right, follow me to the locker room and I’ll get the list for you.”

At the door of the women’s locker room, she paused, and pulled off her helmet. “I have one copy of this list. Please keep it safe.”

He saluted her. “No problem.”

She got the list out of her big coach’s binder and handed it to him while he stood in the doorway. 

He took it. “Some of the parents were talking cars with me.”

Rey was stunned. “Which parents?” She had trouble connecting with some of the dads. They seemed very uncomfortable with a female coach.

“Anthony, Jerene, and Miah’s dad for one.”

“Mr. Taylor talked to you?” Shit, the man knew the names of the kids and parents. Just like that, he’d learned who they were and now parents were talking to him.

“Yes, he did. We chatted about my car. He knows his shit--more than I do. He said he loves sports cars and has an old Mustang that he works on in his free time.”

Rey stared at him. “Well, who knew? He barely says anything to me.” 

Phillip shrugged. “Probably more comfortable talking to men. Some guys are like that.”

His presence opened a new line of communication and new possibilities. “Did you find out what he thinks about his kids playing hockey and the team and all that?” Rey asked eagerly.

“No, we talked about my car, Rey. Want me to ask him next time I see him?”

“Yes, please.” She couldn’t believe he’d found a way to gain feedback about the program. Phillip leaned against the door. “I’m valuable to you, then?”

Rey looked up from unlacing her skates. “What does that mean?”  
“It means you should go out with me.”

“For fuck’s sake, I am going out with you. To the game, remember?”

“Yeah, I know. You should go out with me a lot.”

Rey muttered, “Maybe.” She pulled off one skate, then the other.

“If I’m valuable.”

“I don’t date people based on their value for my team,” Rey said. She slipped on the skate guards and placed them in her bag.

He pushed off the doorway and stood straight. “What do you base your dates on?”

“If I like someone or not.” Really, what was this man asking?

“And do you? Like me?”

Rey sighed and dropped her helmet in with the skates. “So far, so good. Phillip, what is your deal?”  
“I like you a lot. And I think we’d make a great team, you and I.”

She stared at him.

“Fall in love with me,” he added.

And that’s where he lost her.

“Honestly,” she started.

“No, really. Then you can marry me,” he said.

Rey stuffed her feet into sneakers. “If you think I’m going to put up with your idiot antics, you have another thing coming. I don’t like your arrogant attitude, your flirtatious bullshit, your laziness, or your slick con-man schtick.”

Phillip’s mouth hung open.

“You think hockey players and families don’t gossip? They do. Especially about people who own the only sports store in town. Fucking Altmans who price gouge the shit out of all of us. We have to drive out of town to get away from you people if we want a better deal or better service.”

Phillip opened his mouth the reply, but Rey was just getting warmed up.

“You blew out of here on a cloud of marijuana smoke and left behind a lot of broken hearts after you fucked your way through all the girls around here. Then you came roaring back without a job or prospects--with a car you didn’t buy and tried to impress your family with how fucking grown up you were. And succeeded in showing them exactly how stupid and immature you are. I heard you fuckers smoked dope at Temple and set off the sprinklers.”

“That wasn’t just me,” Phillip protested.

“Who cares?” Rey answered. “The point is that you don’t seem to have changed one bit. You’re being lazy in the back office at your brother’s store. I’m amazed he hasn’t fired your ass. And now you’re trying to jump into my pet project and get up in my business. Is that about right?”

Phillip started to slam his fist against the door.

“Don’t,” Rey ground out through gritted teeth. “Don’t be mad at the truth.”

He hit his own forehead with a fist, then flattened his palm on the door. “Are you done?”

Rey zipped up her bag. “I’m not sure yet. I’ll let you know.”

“Fine.” Phillip slipped his palm down the door and reached out to pick up his stick. “You do that.”

Rey heard him stomping off to the men’s locker room.

<>

Phillip was furious. He paced back and forth in the locker room still in his skates, though his feet were hurting. His skates were new and, yeah, he’d baked them, but it would still take a few more skates to make them comfortable on his size 14 feet. Shit. He raked a hand through his sweaty hair. People gossiped about him and his family. He figured he should know that already, but he hadn’t given a shit back then. He probably didn’t want to know.

Fucking hell. He’d been all that she’d said and more. He had fucked every woman he’d wanted, whenever he wanted. He’d done nothing but waste time and money and scam his way through shit. He’d flunked out of college because he was too bored to go to class. He’d worked bullshit jobs and quit when bosses expected real commitment and real work. He’d spent his days and nights looking for the next party and the next woman. Then he’d been slapped into therapy and found he could sweet-talk the majority of those idiots, too. Never be real, never be serious. Never be happy.

Not like he was when he played hockey. It wasn’t even the cheers and adulation--though that was part of it.

He’d been on a team and what he did, how he performed, had mattered. He helped the team win games and it felt good.

He missed hockey. He missed caring about something, even if he pretended it didn’t matter because he was too cool to show it.

Fuck, he missed hockey.

Phillip ripped his skates off his feet. He had people to call. He pulled out his cell phone and found it fucking dead again. He was seriously going to have to replace it soon.


	3. Go, Alt, Go

Phillip Altman was determined to turn over a new leaf. He sat in the battered old locker room with his hockey bag of new equipment watching a group of men slapping on their gear. Some he knew from his high school hockey days; some of the guys he didn’t know at all. Didn’t matter. They all played hockey.

He taped his shin guards and listened to the conversation flow around him. He thought about all the things he’d done in the past couple of days. He typed up Rey’s little handwritten list and emailed it to her. He called the kids’ parents one after another and asked if they’d like him to drive the kids to practice. He set up a schedule of rides, typed that up, and emailed it to Rey.

Then he started organizing all the team files he was responsible for. He asked his brother what else might need to be done to streamline that part of the business. Paul’s eyebrows had shot up into his old bald head and Phillip almost laughed out loud.

“Who is she?” Paul had asked.  
“No one,” Phillip had lied and received a skeptical look.

“Better let Mom know early so she can plan the wedding.” Paul walked away with a wave.

Phillip had snorted at that parting comment.

Now, in this locker room, that was all he could think about. Rey and her biting words. And the need to prove her wrong.

He tugged on his new jersey with his name and number emblazoned on the back. He’d made it himself at the store after consulting with the beer league captain about their colors. He’d showed off the jersey at team practice and then offered to make his teammates similar jerseys at cost. He’d gotten quite a few takers. It was easy for him to do at the store and seemed...nice...to give something to fellow beer league players. He was surprised at how excited he was to wear team colors and play again. The usual boredom he felt was held at bay for a time.

Phillip and the team all skated out to a smattering of cheers and hoots as a small group of spectators, mostly spouses and kids, sat in the stands to watch the game. Phillip warmed up with the rest of the guys. He felt whole again being on a team and was ready to play defense against the other beer league team.

The puck dropped and play began. Phillip was not on the first line, but he watched the play to see how the league players held up against the other team. When his line went out, he was ready and focused. He found himself not only playing defense--but jumping in as a forward every now and then. He passed the puck to a dude who was playing forward but the guy missed it. Phillip tried a couple more times to literally play defense and hang back. But the offense didn’t seem up to the task of getting the puck anywhere near the net. Phillip scratched his beard and decided he could do better.

Phillip stopped the puck from sliding into the crease yet again as the other team continued its offensive play. He saw an opening as the other team skated toward him. Without thinking, he skated past them with the puck on his stick and took a breakaway toward the other goal. He had been near the net, all the way down by his team’s goalie, and he figured someone would skate up and he could dump the puck with a blistering pass. No one could skate as fast as he could. There wasn’t one player nearby to pass the puck to. Someone on the other team tried to get in front of him and he neatly skated around him, taking the puck with him. The guy was too slow on the uptake to do a thing about it. Phillip was at the net and saw the goalie brace. He decided to go for it. He still had a hell of a slapshot with his long wingspan--an advantage of being tall. He slapped the living shit out of the puck and aimed for over the goalie’s shoulder as Rey had done. The guy never even had a chance. He was apparently too stunned to react.

The puck sailed into the net.

There was a moment of silence as the teams registered what happened. Someone in the booth sounded the goal horn and everyone started cheering and yelling--with the exception of the other team, of course.

“Go, Alt! Go, Alt!”

Phillip hadn’t heard that yell in a long time. He looked into the stands to see the small crowd of people on their feet.

One person, with pretty chestnut hair floating around her shoulders, hollered again. “Go, Alt!” She waved vigorously at him, grinning like crazy.

Coach Sting-Rey Johnson. The woman who had yelled at him in the locker room was here supporting him.

He literally blushed with pleasure. He waved his stick at her and found his own face wearing a huge grin. Nothing at all like the feeling of scoring a goal.

After the game, which they won, the team crowded around Phillip to slap his back and skate him off the ice in a big knot of guys. Phillip saw Rey climbing down from the stands and he shooed the other guys away. He wanted to see if she would say hello. He pulled off his helmet and one glove to rake his hand through his hair. It was tucked behind his big ears but he didn’t even try to hide them, like he usually did. Fuck it. He scored a goal and won the game.

She walked up to him and stood on the steps so she could look into his face. “Great job, Alt. I didn’t know you’d joined a team.”

He felt that same rush of goal-scoring pleasure looking into her lovely face. Her nose was pink again from the cold rink and her freckles were scattered so fetchingly across her cheeks. He wanted to kiss her soft lips--so, so badly.

“I figured I should,” he murmured. “I forgot how much I cared about the game.”

“I’m so glad.” Her eyes were bright and she reached out to touch his shoulder.

He couldn’t help himself. He wrapped an arm around her and swung her up in his arms for a second. Her feet dangled in the air but she just laughed.

He set her down again. “Rey--” he started.

“No,” she interrupted. “I’m an asshole. I’m sorry I said those mean things to you. It wasn’t fair. You already told me you weren’t like that anymore.”

He gaped at her. “No, you were right to call me on my shit. You’re a good coach and you tell people the hard truth when they need to hear it. I’m grateful to you. Your words pushed me to do this.” He waved his hand. “And I thank you for that.”

“Can I buy you a victory beer?” Rey asked.

“Meet me in the bar. We’re all going to celebrate.”

<>

Rey smiled to herself two nights later in the women’s locker room. She actually liked that irredeemable asshole, Phillip Altman. He’d started fundraising for her baby, the Flint First Hockey project, and was sending her email updates every time he talked another hockey sponsor into donating something to the cause. He was melting her stone cold heart.

She pulled on her gear. Tonight, her team, the Herricanes, played the Ice Angels. She was feeling good and ready to go--game face on.

The team trooped out of the locker room to hit the ice. Rey looked up and saw Phillip Altman in a big thick sweater standing at the end of the hall, holding the door open for them to walk into the rink. He looked massive--tall and lean, in black jeans and big boots. Rey could barely take her eyes off him and his fluffy hair and whiskey eyes. She looked at the floor. She had to focus.

“Good luck, Herricanes,” he said as the women passed.

“Thanks!” one of Rey’s teammates said.

Rey stepped up to Phillip. “What are you doing here?” She got lost for a second when he grinned at her.

“Supporting my favorite team. I’m here to cheer you and the Herricanes on, Sting-Rey. Go eat ‘em up!”

Rey smiled back. She was finding it harder than ever to resist him. “Beer afterwards?”

“Win or lose,” he agreed. “I’ll be there.”

She stood for a second still watching him. The other women had already walked through the doors. Phillip stepped closer and leaned in.

“Kiss for luck, Sting-Rey,” he muttered. He angled his head around her visor and pushed his lips out in a ridiculous pucker.

Rey laughed and puckered her lips up for a quick smack. She had no idea why she did that but Phillip’s huge smile made Rey feel like the queen of everything.

She was ready to play.

And play she did. She was on the first line as forward and nipped the puck away in the face-off. There was no stopping her. Unfortunately, the other team’s goalie guarded the crease with amazing zeal. Rey tried every angle and couldn’t get the puck in the net. Finally, she slid one around the goalie in a time-honored deke worthy of Pavel Datsyuk. That was their one and only goal that night.

Rey heard Phillip cheering and waved to him when she scored her goal. He hollered encouraging words and she greatly appreciated it, though she wished her team was a bit stronger on defense. The Herricane’s goalie was no match for the Ice Angels. Rey’s team played heavy defense throughout the game, barely able to keep the puck out of their zone. In the end, it was a wash.

At the end of the game, the women fist-bumped the other team and skated off the ice. Phillip met them at the door and held it open again. He called words of encouragement to the team as they walked through. Rey shrugged and told him she’d meet him in the bar in a bit.

“Nice deke, there, Sting-Rey,” he called after her.

She waved her stick in reply. She’d done the best she could and it would have to do.

<>

Rey walked into Skaters, chatting with a few of her teammates. Phillip and some of the women’s spouses sat at a long table with a couple of pitchers and a handful of glasses. Phillip stood and held out a chair for Rey, then proceeded to pour beer into a glass for her. She thanked him and settled in.

The women began to talk at once, dissecting and reliving the game. Many of the men exchanged glances with one another, Rey noted. They shifted uncomfortably and snorted into their drinks. Phillip merely leaned back and sipped his beer. He rested an arm on the back of Rey’s chair and seemed content to let the conversation flow around him.

One of the men said suddenly that he didn’t think women’s hockey was anything like men’s hockey. He didn’t understand, he stated, why women wanted to play in the first place. His spouse turned red.

Rey and Phillip exchanged glances. Rey knew this guy was on Phillip’s team. 

“Why don’t you shut the hell up, Brad,” Phillip said casually. “Let your wife play, for shit’s sake. What’s it to you?”

Brad took umbrage. “Why don’t you shut up, Altman. You don’t have a wife and you don’t know what it’s like to be dragged to the rink when you should be home eating dinner.”

Phillip shrugged. “Skaters has food. What’s your problem?”

“Women’s leagues are bullshit,” Brad argued.

“They are not,” Rey stated. “No more than beer leagues. Fuck you, Brad. You play like shit. Always have. At least, Beth can play, unlike your sorry ass.”

Brad roared. “Fuck you, you sad excuse for a coach. You and that bullshit program you run.”

Rey leaned forward in her seat. She would die on this particular hill--her program was not bullshit. “Get the fuck out. You’re already drunk, asshole,” Rey gritted out. “Beth, don’t let him drive. And don’t let him tell you what to do, while we’re at it.”

“What are you going to do about it, Coach?” The word was a slur in his mouth. “The girl who coaches degenerate kids.”

Rey glared at him. “Beat your ass with my hockey stick.”

“You wish,” Brad rejoined.

“Be glad to help her,” Phillip said lightly.

“Shut up, Brad,” Beth hissed. She put a hand on her husband’s arm. The other men seemed to shrink back in their seats.

“You know,” Brad slurred. “I had to work for a fucking female like you, Rey. She was a bitch. She thought she was above all men. I bet you think that, too.” He paused. “Bitch.” He fairly spat the word out on the table.

Rey felt Phillip stiffen up beside her. The entire table erupted, yelling at Brad.

Mike came out from behind the bar--he ran Skaters with an iron fist. “This party needs to break up. Brad, you need to leave right now. Everyone else can follow. We don’t need that kind of talk here.”

Brad opened his face to protest but a couple of the guys grabbed him and convinced him it wasn’t worth being banned from the bar.

The players all walked out in a group, with Beth pushing her husband in front of her, sniping at him. He turned and yelled at her, calling her a bitch too.

Phillip moved fast, startling Rey. He grabbed Brad and pinned him up against the outside wall of the rink.

“Look, fuckface,” Phillip said. “I know we go way back, you and I. And you know I mean business. Now, you can say or do anything you want to me or any of the other men here. We can take care of ourselves. I for one would beat your fucking ass any day of the week, on or off the ice. But you leave the women alone. Don’t call women bitches. Don’t be mean to your wife. If she looks like she’s been roughed up tomorrow, I’m paying a call to your workplace. With the fucking cops. And you better hope they get there before I do.” He shoved Brad away from him.

Rey watched breathlessly. Phillip had always been so laconic and easy-going. She’d never known him to throw a fit or lose his temper.

In fact, he hadn’t really lost his temper here either. He had simply stated facts and was prepared to back them up. Apparently.

He walked over to her and put his arm around her shoulders. He walked her to her car without a word.

Rey opened her trunk and watched Phillip toss her bag of gear in like it weighed nothing. She stuffed her stick in. He slammed the trunk shut and looked at Rey.

“Sorry you had to see that. That fucker’s on my nerves with his bullshit. He was spouting it during practice, too. Griping that his wife wasn’t home or whatever.”

Rey looked up at him. “That’s what happens in a hockey family. Doesn’t he know that?”

“I guess not.” Phillip chewed his lip for a second. “I’d be thrilled if my wife played hockey. We could coach a team together and practice, maybe scrimmage. It would be fun.”

Rey said nothing but the vision of marrying an enlightened hockey player danced in front of her eyes.  
“It sounds like fun to me, too,” Rey said before she could stop herself. “I practically live at the rink and I’m happy to do it.”

He stroked his mustache for a second. “Same for me. I lost it for a while, but I remember now how much I loved playing the game.”

“You might like coaching, too.”

He laughed. “I’m getting a taste of it as a volunteer.”

“You’ve been sucked into it and now you’re head chauffeur.”

“I don’t mind. What the hell else am I doing with my life?”

“No idea,” Rey answered him. She shivered slightly.

Phillip saw it. “All right, go on home. You’re going to catch something standing out here.” He leaned down. Rey saw him homing in on her again. She opened her mouth to say something but his lips touched hers. She forgot everything as she tasted him. Warm, soft, hoppy, a touch of sweetness, a gentle prickle of mustache. His tongue slipped into her mouth briefly, then withdrew. He raised his head.

“Goodnight,” he said and walked away whistling.


	4. Caught!

A real date. Phillip finally worked out all the details for the Firebirds game. His seats had a better view, he and Rey had decided together, as they shared a beer after the kids’ practice. Phillip would pick Rey up and drive her to the game, since he had a free parking sticker for being co-owner of the store that sponsored the Firebirds. Altman’s Sports also outfitted the team, an account Phillip had recently taken over from his shocked sibling. He hadn’t even fucked it up.

Phillip risked taking Rey’s hand as they walked into the arena and showed their passes to the ticket takers. She allowed him to intertwine their fingers as they walked around the huge arena to their seats. Rey was all smiles as she waved to people she knew in the crowd--and Phillip found himself even more enchanted with her. He realized he’d almost always seen her with gear on or sweaty from practices or games. Now, she sat next to him in a pair of skinny jeans and a Firebirds t-shirt. Her hair was down and floated around her shoulders softly. He wanted to run his hands through it. Her face was alight and he noticed her hazel eyes crinkled up and almost disappeared when she grinned. He loved that detail.

He swallowed hard. Fuck.

He loved that and much more about her.

He’d found a couple of old articles about the high school version of the Herricanes from when he’d been on the Ice Raiders’ team. Rey Johnson was mentioned as a star player. He was ashamed that he’d never paid any attention to the girls’ team. He’d been too wrapped up in himself. He remembered thinking they were all “dogs,” who couldn’t get boys to like them. He’d been a huge schmuck.

And now he was incredibly happy to be connected back into hockey--and to meet a woman who could hold her own and felt the same passion for the sport that he did.

He squeezed Rey’s hand and she gazed at him. He caught her looking at his mouth and realized that she might need a kiss. He obliged and she sighed against his mouth. He wasn’t sure she was even aware of the tiny noise she made. He knew when a woman wanted him, though, and Rey definitely did.

And he wanted her, so very much. It was hard to concentrate on the game. Instead, he found himself plotting scenarios to get Rey into bed. Yet, he didn’t want to do it that way--plot and seduce, cajole and wheedle. He wanted it to be mutual. He wanted it to be pure.

Somewhere in a dusty corner of his brain, the thought emerged: _Or else this relationship won’t work_.

That scared the living shit out of him. Relationship? Work?

He squirmed in his too-small plastic arena seat and tried to concentrate on the game. Rey was yelling at the ref and Phillip had zero idea what was going on down on the ice. His brain had shut down.

He remembered coming back home when his father died and shuffling into his mother’s living room with his therapist girlfriend in front of him--he had been wearing her like a fucking shield. Then he erroneously announced that they were engaged just to see what would happen. He had been fooling himself and his family.

This. This was different.

Rey bubbled over with excitement that the Firebirds won and she skipped along outside all the way to the car. She clutched Phillip’s arm and chattered away. He enjoyed listening to her commentary but added little to the conversation.

She noticed his silence and questioned him when they got into the car.

“Just thinking about things,” he said with a smile. He leaned in and stole another kiss.

Rey put her arms around him. “Did you enjoy the game?”

“I was… distracted,” he said, perhaps telling the truth to a woman for the first time in his life.

She looked surprised. “By what?”

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately.”

Rey reached out and took his hand. “I can tell. You’ve changed, even in the short time I’ve known you.”

“I wasted a lot of time being an asshole and blaming the world for my own shit. That’s over. I want to have…” He stopped. He shouldn’t say too much and scare her off.

“Yes?” Rey looked at him expectantly.

He groped for the words. “I’ve never really cared about anything but my own agenda. That’s changed.” He paused. “I realized that I was bored because I didn’t let myself care about anything. Once I started caring again--” He laughed. “That’s wrong. There was no caring, ever. I didn’t give a shit about anything--”

“Hockey,” Rey said softly.

He nodded. “Okay, hockey. And…you.” He turned to Rey. “That’s what moved me out of this stupid funk I’d been in.”

Rey’s eyes were dark and mysterious in the light shining in from the parking lot.

“Thank you, Phillip. You give me more credit than is my due. I just yelled at you and said mean things.” A guilty look crossed her face. “Not that helpful.”

He laughed. “But completely true and much deserved. I never wanted to be a better person until I planted myself firmly in the asshole category. Then I saw what I was missing.”

He smacked his hands on the wheel. “I saw what the kids were missing. I saw where and how our kids live. Not all, but a lot. They have these little houses, some neat, some shabby, in bombed-out neighborhoods. I have so much privilege, so much wealth and opportunity in comparison.”

“Yeah,” Rey agreed. “Really hits home, doesn’t it. I lived like they did in foster homes. I was a charity case in a hockey program, too.”

Phillip stared at her. “I had no idea.”

“I didn’t advertise it,” Rey said drily.

He swallowed. He’d come from a wealthy family--even with four kids, his parents were able to buy a nice house, put food on the table, pay for sports and other extracurriculars, and pay his way through college before he flunked out.

“Fuck,” he said, squirming.

Rey laughed. “It’s not your fault you have a big old silver spoon up your ass.”

“In my mouth,” Phillip corrected. “Mouth, not ass.”

“Are you sure?” Rey grinned at him.

He leaned over to look her in the eye. “Positive.”

He put his Porsche in gear and drove Rey home. He walked her to her door but didn’t try to go in.

“I’ll say goodnight here,” he said softly. He tugged Rey close and kissed her with all the crazy feelings inside him. She wound her arms around him and kissed him back, tangling her small sweet tongue with his.

But he made himself pull away. He looked into Rey’s pretty eyes.

“I’m not that guy anymore,” he said. “I’m not taking advantage of you or pushing you into bed. I want more than that.” He kissed her forehead. “I want it all. Let me know if you want that, too.”

Rey touched his face with her hand. “I might.”

He kissed her palm. “You’ll love me once you get to know me.”

Rey just laughed and opened her door.

Phillip bounded down the steps, grinning. She hadn’t said no.

<>

Another day at the rink, and Rey noted that she and Phillip had fallen into a routine. They saw each other there every evening, if not for Mites practice, then for beer league games or Herricanes practices. She enjoyed knowing he would be there, one way or another. She loved stepping out on the private ice and practicing with him after the kids had gone. It was their time. They did drills together without speaking--just being athletes and loving the feel of skating together. One night, Phillip took off his helmet and gloves and laid them aside, along with his stick.

“Let’s just skate for a while,” he called.

Rey dropped off her things and took his hand. They skated in leisurely loops, sometimes speeding up, turning around to skate backwards, doing crossovers. He took her hands and skated backwards while she skated forward--and he twirled her on the ice. They laughed together because they were mimicking figure skaters and had no idea what they were doing. It was fun to skate together, though. Rey skated closer to Phillip and he caught her in his arms. He stopped for a kiss and they stood, eagerly pressing their mouths together in the cold air. They parted ways and chased each other, catching and kissing again--until a group of teenagers trooped out and the Zamboni started up.

Rey grabbed her helmet, stick, and gloves and skated out with Phillip right behind her. They laughed when they got to the women’s locker room.

“Caught,” Rey said breathlessly.

“I’m always caught,” Phillip said. “You’ll get used to it.”

“Yeah, I remember,” Rey agreed. “Didn’t you get caught making out with Mindy Banks under the bleachers?”

He laughed. “Yeah and got fired. I was supposed to be working at the skate rental counter. I had the keys to the storage room and used it for sexy times with the girls.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “I know how to break in, though. Wanna check it out?”

Rey dissolved into giggles. “I used to want to,” she said. “But...” She realized suddenly what she had said and bit her tongue.

“You used to want to?” Phillip asked. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing,” Rey demurred, feeling the blush rise. “Not one thing. Beer? I’ll meet you out there.”

He stepped into the women’s locker room. “No, don’t change the subject. What did you mean?” He sat next to her on the wooden bench.

“You aren’t even supposed to be in here, Phillip Altman.” Rey gave him a playful shove.

“You’re the only woman here at the rink, aside from some moms waiting for practice to be over.” He leaned into her and nuzzled her ear. “What did you mean?”

“Nothing,” she mumbled.

“Huh,” he said. “Tell me.” He wrapped an arm around Rey and pulled her body close to his. She could feel the heat radiating off him and smell his salty hot scent. She put her nose in his warmup and sniffed.

“I’m sweaty, girl. What are you doing?”

“You smell fine to me. I like your sweat.” Rey hoped he would forget what she said.

He didn’t. He tilted her chin up to look into his hazel brown eyes, almost golden in the harsh light of the locker room.

“Did you want me to take you under the bleachers back then?”

“No,” Rey said quickly.

“Liar,” he said, and captured her lips for a gentle kiss. “I should have. If I’d have known...I would have scooped you up and made you mine back then.”

She pulled away. “You wouldn’t have appreciated me. Your taste ran to big-boobs and small minds.”

He laughed outright. “So true.”

“Probably still does,” Rey said.

“Not anymore,” Phillip answered. “It runs to smart, sexy coaches who yell at me and kick my ass on the ice.”

“Darling, you have no ass,” Rey said.

“What the fuck?” Phillip retorted. He stood up and showed her his behind. “Women like my ass.”

“Some women,” Rey stated.

He looked so affronted that she fell off the bench laughing at him.

“They don’t call you Sting-Rey for nothing,” he muttered.

She clutched her stomach, still giggling, and crawled up to the bench again.

“Mess with me, Pussycat, and I’ll fucking show you my ass right here, right now. It’s cute.” He squatted down in front of her, balancing on his skates. “Wanna see?” His eyes were full of mischief.

“How can you be a hockey player and not have the thighs and butt that go with skating?”

“I do,” he said, kneeling. He took Rey’s hands and put them on his ass. “Have a little cake, baby.” He looked into her eyes.

Rey slipped her hands up and down the slick material of his warm-ups. His butt was firm, muscular. She gave his cheeks a squeeze and his smile widened.

“Nice ass, Alt,” she said.

“See,” he answered and pulled her toward him.

She dug her hands into his soft hair and smashed her mouth against his. He opened her knees with his big hands and crawled up between her thighs. His big hands rested on her bottom for a few while he plunged his tongue in her mouth. She sucked on his lips and bit them gently. She nuzzled her face against his beard and he nipped at her neck. Rey was on fire--as she had always been every time she looked at Phillip Altman. He was sexier than ever, fully grown and ready for action. Rey was all up in his business shoving her tongue in his mouth and he was responding to her with grunts of pleasure. He had her legs open and his hands on her thighs. She felt herself get wetter at the thought of this beautiful man sliding his hands upward and rubbing her between her legs. He could ease the ache that had been there since she’d met him.

Phillip leaned his forehead against Rey’s. “Tell me now if I have to stop. If you’re not ready.”

“I’m ready,” she whispered. “Touch me.”

His eyes were bright as he slipped his hands upward to place his thumb between her legs--and slid them across the slick material.

Rey closed her eyes and moaned.

Phillip asked if he found the right spot. Rey nodded into his shoulder and her breath hitched as he traced little circles with his thumb. She felt like she could almost come with him doing just that. She buried her face into his neck and felt his warm breath in her ear.

“I’m going to make you come good and hard. I’m going to eat you out right here and right now because I can’t wait to taste you.”

“Phillip,” Rey gasped.

He tugged at the waistband of her warmups and pushed her legs together to get them down around her ankles.

“My skates,” she panted. “Still on.”

“Mine, too. Doesn’t matter,” he said and pushed his fingers into the sides of her panties. Those came down too. He opened her knees again and spread her out in front of him. His fingers gathered her dew and he tucked two fingers inside her. Rey was sure her eyes rolled back into her head. She had no ability to think as his thumb returned to its spot to tease her in tiny circles.

The fact that anyone could walk into the women’s locker room at any time didn’t escape Rey. She would be mortified if someone found her splayed out with Phillip Altman’s fingers up inside her. But at that moment, she couldn’t make herself care.

Her orgasm rose inside her--the first one she’d had in a while. And this man, this man, knew what he was doing. His thumb was magic.

And then she felt the softness of his breath on her thigh. He pulled his fingers out and replaced them with his mouth.

Rey slapped a hand over her own mouth to keep from yelling in pleasure. Phillip’s tongue found its way to her clit and within a few soft licks, she came. Hard. As he had promised.

He sucked her clit into his mouth and kept going. Rey tried to bat him away but he held her down and gently teased her until she tipped over the edge again with a second deep orgasm.

She lay back for a second, breathless--then realized how crazy she looked. She closed her legs and put her hand over her eyes.

“What did I do?”  
“You came for me, Pussycat, like I wanted you to.” He paused. Rey took a peek between her fingers. He was smiling at her. “Twice.”

She closed her fingers. “Someone could have walked in.”

“Adds a little spice to the situation,” he said. He stood up and clicked over to the door. He turned the lock. “Better?”

Rey looked at him. “I still have my skates on and so do you.”

He shrugged. “I could fuck you like this too. Skates and all.” He stood in front of her. She saw his dick making a rather large bulge in his warmups.

Rey didn’t hesitate. She yanked up her warmups and dropped to her knees. She pulled his dick out and wrapped her lips around it.

“Oh shit,” he said, taking a wobbly step.

She raised her eyes. “Better sit down, Alt. I’m about to suck you off.”

He took a deep breath and ran his hands through her hair. “Pussycat, you don’t have to.”

She took him back in her mouth and mumbled around his dick. “Want to.”

He staggered back and sat on the bench with Rey between his legs. She licked him like he was her favorite treat, which he was indeed turning out to be. He had a beautiful, veiny dick with a round head and a sweet spot right underneath. She listened to him suck in his breath whenever she found it.

“I’m too sweaty,” he muttered. “Rey, this is…”

“Incredible. Good salty dick,” she said. “You taste fine. I’m sweaty, too.”

She burrowed her nose into his wiry hair. He drew yet another long shaky breath. “Fuck.”

“We can do that later,” Rey murmured and shoved him back inside her mouth. She worked him everywhere while he groaned and slipped his hands around her head. He clearly wanted to push her head down on his dick but was trying to hold back.

She put her hands on his and guided him. She didn’t mind if he wanted to fuck her mouth. She relished the feeling of his hard dick and the saliva running down her chin and his whimpers as he got closer. He groaned loud when he came.

Then he sat up, pulled her close, and kissed her over and over, murmuring how good she was.

Rey pulled off her skates after Phillip tucked himself inside his warmups and staggered off to the men’s locker room. He returned with a big smile and his gear all packed.

“Come home with me?” Rey asked as they walked out together.

“Yeah,” Phillip agreed. 

He drove that Porsche like a madman and they slammed into Rey’s house together, shedding clothing.

They showered together, running soaping hands all over each other. Then, barely dry, Phillip pulled Rey into her bed. He teased her with his tongue and fingers until she almost went crazy. Then he rolled on a condom and sank into her heat. He made her come with him deep inside her. And she called his name because she was falling in love with him.

<>

And Phillip Altman, irredeemable asshole, was absolutely falling for Rey Johnson; he knew it without a doubt. He lay next to her the next morning and watched her sleep. It was crazy, but he felt at home in her bed with its flowery comforter. Flowers, he shook his head, and pulled the spread up over Rey’s bare shoulder--the pattern was so out of character for the fierce coach he’d come to know. Her house contained simple furniture with functional, clean lines, and fucking flowered curtains, bedspread, bright prints (Georgie O’Keefe, he guessed), and vivid touches of color splashed all over. The colors reminded him of her, bright and vivid and full of life.

He wanted to wake her, but she was snoring in such a cute way that he decided to let her be. For a little while.

She snorted herself awake and he had to laugh. Her eyes opened and she frowned at him.

“What? What’s funny?”

“You,” he said, snuggling up to her. She flopped over, presenting her back to him.

“Huh,” she said.

Phillip didn’t mind. Rey’s soft skin was all he needed against his dick, which had awakened a while ago.

“Grumpy,” he whispered into her hair. “I myself am feeling excellent this morning.”

He slipped a hand over her tummy and found a warm breast to tease. Rey elbowed him slightly but without much malice.

“Sleeping, Altman,” she mumbled.

“Don’t care, Johnson.” He cupped her breast and then moved downward. He lifted her leg up over his hip so she was spread out. He sighed and found her soft folds with his fingers. He would make her come again and she would be his forever. Hell, he decided, he’d make her come every day for the rest of their lives, if she’d let him. Rey squirmed under his touch and grabbed his arm in a death grip.

“Phillip,” she murmured, opening herself up to him further.

“Mm,” he said and nuzzled her neck. “Let me tease you, then I’m going to go down there and lick you awake.”

“Already awake,” she said.

He brushed his fingers up and down, gathering her wetness and finding his favorite spot. He loved the sounds Rey made as he tried different moves. He was determined to learn exactly what pleased her most and then he was going to do it with his tongue.

He scooted down and lay between Rey’s legs. She sat up on one elbow.

“Phillip?”

He shushed her and nudged her back down. He buried his face between her legs and soaked up her luscious scent. Then he began to lick her thoroughly and enjoyed every second of it. He always liked eating women out but this was different. He loved making this woman happy, he wanted her to come on his mouth. He liked knowing he’d made that happen.

Phillip homed in on Rey’s clit and held her hips as she bucked under him. He felt her body tense up and knew she was close. She dug her hands in his hair as she fell over the edge. Her sharp nails scratched his scalp and he didn’t care at all.

He lifted his head and saw her breathing hard, flushed with her orgasm, eyes closed tight. Maybe he could make her come again. But when he dipped his head again, she smacked it.

“I can’t,” she said. “No more.”

“Yes, more.” He kissed the soft skin of her thigh. “You deserve so many orgasms.”

Rey stroked his head and he almost purred. “I’m good, Alt-Man. What about you? Come on up here with that sexy dick of yours.”

He didn’t have to hear it twice.

When he sank into her warmth, he buried his nose in her hair and counted his blessings. He felt like he was home.


	5. Redeemable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> True love hits a few snags. Is Phillip back to his old irresponsible ways?

Phillip Altman, big lost puppy, all but moved in with Rey. She found out he was living in a loft space above Altman’s Sports, and, though it was a nice open space, it didn’t have much more than a bed, a few pieces of furniture, and some shelves. He’d told her his mom had given him some of her old furniture from the basement when he’d moved in. All in all, Rey could see that Phillip enjoyed hanging out in her cozy house and she enjoyed the perks of having him there. One look and a little raised eyebrow and Rey found herself spread out at a moment’s notice--on any available surface.

More than just the hot sex, Rey enjoyed having Phillip around to talk hockey. She was able to share some of the workload of coaching the Mites team. They planned out practices and brainstormed drills together. Rey was grateful for the help, since the majority of her time was taken by working to expand the Flint First Hockey program for the next season--and the never-ending promotion and fundraising that accompanied running a nonprofit organization. Flint First had 501(c)(3) status as a registered nonprofit, but Rey’s salary was paid by the Flint Hockey Association. She was trying to make sure Flint First could sustain itself and support her as well. She often researched best practices for sustaining nonprofits late in the evening while Phillip played games online. His talents lay in talking to people, not in reading websites, but she didn’t mind. He was helpful in so many other ways.

The thing he did not wish to do, however, was introduce Rey to his family. She wandered into the store one day to have lunch with Phillip and said hi to Paul, his brother. Phillip pulled her into the backroom office without an introduction. Paul seemed unfazed, but it bothered Rey a little.

“Are you hiding me?” she asked.

“Nope, nope, nope,” he said, looking over her shoulder into the hallway. He shut the door firmly.

“Can I meet your family sometime?”

He rolled his eyes and kissed her. “Do we have to? Can’t we just enjoy ourselves without going through all that?”

Rey pressed a little harder. “I never had a real family, Alt. I’d like to meet one sometime.”

“Ugh,” he said. “Be glad. They’re a pain in the ass.”

He didn’t understand.

“You’re the youngest, right? I kind of remember your brother hanging out at the rink sometimes with what’s her name.”

“Penny,” Phillip supplied absently. He shuffled some papers on his desk and took a huge bite of one of the sandwiches Rey had brought with her.

“So what’s it like?”

“What’s what like?” He looked up and took a sip of his water.

“Having a big family?”

“Uh…” he said. “I’m the baby and the family screw-up. No one takes me seriously. So there’s that.” He started ticking off points on his fingers. “Paul’s wife can’t get pregnant and he’s a humorless dick who rides my ass. Wendy’s in a loveless marriage and she worries too much. Judd’s going to be a father with his ex-wife who was caught fucking another man. And my mom’s a lesbian with fake tits.” He sat back in his chair and twisted back and forth. “Good enough?” His tone was not especially pleasant.

Rey gazed at him steadily. “My parents died and there were no relatives who would take me in. I was raised in a series of foster homes until I aged out. I’m nothing to anyone. Not a screw-up, not a humorless dick, not anything.”

Phillip’s expression changed and he sat up. “Fuck, Rey, I’m the dick.” He got up and squatted down next to her. “You’re everything to me.” He put his arms around her. “I love you, Rey.”

Rey’s eyes filled with tears. “I love you, too.”

He stuck his big nose in her wet cheek and rubbed the tears away. “I’m a whiny baby--been that way all my life.”

She sniffed and touched his soft hair. “I know, but you’re my whiny baby.”

He smiled at her. “Look, Wendy and Judd don’t live near here, but you can meet my mom and Paul and the rest if you really want to. My mom has lots of penis stories to tell you. She writes these fucking psychology books and would love to talk about my toilet training or something.”

“Oh, good,” Rey said. “Just what I want to hear about--your poop.”

He got a faraway look on his face. “Not that my mother really knows much about any of that. My sister Wendy raised me and she’s not around to tell tales.”

Rey touched his face. “Maybe I can meet her someday.”

“Absolutely. When hell freezes over,” Phillip said. He kissed her hand. “All right, come on. Let’s get it over with.”

Rey grinned as Phillip escorted her out of the back room to make the introductions. She watched Paul’s eyes widen as he realized that his baby brother was in love--with a woman hockey coach.

<>

Rey showed Phillip the newly minted game schedule for their team. The Mites were scheduled for their first game in two weeks, and Phillip decided to surprise the kids--and their coach. He wheedled and plagued his contacts until he raised enough money for a first-game gift for all the kids. He just needed to pick up the loot before the game on Saturday and get to the rink to surprise everyone.

He’d left Rey all sleepy and satisfied that morning before heading to Paul’s house to borrow the truck. He texted Rey to let her know he’d meet her at the rink before the game started. He sent gift-wrapped package emojis and wrote that a surprise was on its way to her and the kids.

When he got to his brother’s place, he knocked and Paul let him in with a smirk.

“So you’re really doing this thing?”

“Yep,” Phillip said. He checked his phone. It had turned off again for some reason. Fuck, he’d forgotten to drop it off for repair. He turned the damn thing back on. “I appreciate you letting me use the truck, man. It’s for a good cause.”

“Since when do you give a shit about good causes?”

“Since I started coaching Mites.”

Paul grinned outright. “And meeting that girl coach.” He dangled the keys in front of his brother. 

Phillip snatched them out of his hand. “No comment. Give me the keys.”

“Look, it’s been starting up a bit rough lately, but Bill over at Sheldon’s said it wasn’t serious. He checked the battery and it’s fine. Just goose it a couple times.”

“Fine,” Phillip said. He was eager to get on the road to the warehouse. He still had a lot of stuff to do before the game started. He checked his phone to see if Rey had awakened. He was eager to see her reaction. No messages.

Paul walked Phillip out to the old dusty Suburban. “I’m really glad to see you care about something again, Phil. I know you’re actually working on the contracts.”

Phillip slipped his sunglasses on. “Yeah, thanks.”

Paul hummed for a second. “You know, I remember you said something about expanding and being interested in maybe starting up some satellite stores. I’d be willing to discuss that idea with you sometime.”

Phillip looked at his brother, who had grudgingly given him the job. “Maybe, Paul, though I’m pretty happy doing the contracts here.” He pulled off his glasses and looked his brother in the eye. He remembered what Rey had said about not having a family. Paul had given him a cushion when he’d needed it. “Thank you. Thank you for giving me a job and a second chance. I will try my best not to let you down.”

Phillip saw Paul’s mouth drop open. Paul cleared his throat and blinked. “You’re welcome.” 

Phillip grinned at him and then went in for a forehead press like they always did when their dad was still around. Paul grabbed Phillip’s neck and then pulled him in for an actual hug. Phillip hugged him back and tried not to fall apart. He sniffed and pulled away.

“Gotta get going.”

“All right,” Paul said with a suspicious choke in it. He cleared his throat. “Drive safely.”

Phillip intended to do just that. He checked his phone once more and the fucking thing had shut itself off again. He growled and turned it on. No message. He hoped she wasn’t going to oversleep.

He’d call her when he got to the warehouse.

<>

Rey woke luxuriously, slowly, feeling the lingering wetness between her legs from the early morning Phillip-railing. He’d fucked her so good that she’d fallen right back to sleep after a stunning, world-class orgasm.

She smiled to herself. The sex just kept getting better. She checked the time and hopped out of bed to get ready. The Mites’ first game was today! Phillip had said he had to go to the store for a while that morning to check on something or other, but he’d promised to be at the rink early to help get the kids ready. He’d asked her to pick up anyone that didn’t have a ride, but it seemed, based on the lack of calls or texts, that families were excited to see the kids play and would get their players there.

Rey got a shower in, grabbed her gear and the big team binder, and hauled ass to the rink. She wouldn’t be on skates today since she’d be coaching from the bench, along with her partner, her friend, and her incredible lover. Phillip Altman. Love of her life.

Rey was busy with the intricacies of getting a game up and running. She’d asked Markia Coleman’s mom to run the scoreboard, but Mrs. Coleman needed some training. She’d brought her sister to help out and they kept Rey in stitches as they learned to run the board and keep score.

At a certain point, Rey started checking the time. The kids began to drift in and there was no sign of Phillip. Rey tried calling his cell. No answer. Odd. She called the store and asked whoever answered if Phillip was there.

A man’s voice said no, he wasn’t. Rey wondered if she was speaking to Phillip’s brother Paul.

“This is Rey Johnson,” she said crisply. “I was just wondering if you had seen Phillip at all this morning.”

“Naw,” the guy said. “He hasn’t been here at all. Don’t know where he’s at and I couldn’t tell ya if I did.”

“I’m his girlfriend.” Clearly, this was not Paul on the phone. “And I can’t find him.”

The man on the other end laughed. “Yeah, you’re all his girlfriends. Chelsea called the other day too. He does get around. Listen, he’s probably with her. No offense but this is Phillip Altman we’re talking about, if you know what I mean.”

Rey suddenly recognized the voice. “Brett?”

“What? Is this Sting-Rey? You fucking Alt now? Jesus.”

“You working at the store like the imbecile you are?”

“Naw, that’s Hory who’s the imbecile.”

“Shut the fuck up. He was in an accident, you asshat.”

“Whatever. Heard you’re still a rink rat.”

“Heard you’re still a jackass. Where’s Alt, for fuck’s sake? He’s coaching a game with me in a little while.”

“Ha, fucking Chelsea probably. Why is he fucking you anyhow? You got no tits.”

“If you can’t be helpful, get the hell off my phone,” Rey barked.

“You called me.”

“Fuck off,” Rey said and hung up. She chewed her lip. Was he with some other woman? She checked her messages. Nothing.

This was like the old Phillip--the unreliable no-show. She didn’t want to believe it and she certainly didn’t want to think he was off fucking Chelsea. That wasn’t possible after he’d made love to her so thoroughly. He said he loved her.

Where the fuck was he?

Eventually, Rey gave up. No phone call, no text, no nothing. She had to get to the bench and start the game up.

The buzzer sounded and Rey sent the first line of kids out to the face-off. She gave them instructions as they got into position. Then she watched them play and pushed everything else away: the disappointment, questions, and utter sadness at Phillip’s sudden abandonment. Rey blinked away her tears, set her shoulders, and focused on the game.

Halfway through the second period, she heard Mrs. Coleman calling her name. She looked over and Mrs. Coleman pointed to Rey’s left. Phillip was striding around the bleachers and heading for the bench. Rey stared at him for a second, then went back to coaching. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Phillip step over the barricade to join her on the bench. She said nothing to him. He whispered a hello. She just stared at him blankly for a second and went back to watching the game. Again, she found herself pushing back emotions that threatened to swamp her.

He took his place down at the other end of the bench to help shepherd kids on and off the ice. Rey ignored him in favor of yelling instructions. She was aware of every move he made, but she was too pissed off to look at him directly.

The game crawled on. The kids played as well as they could and won by one improbable goal. The other team accidentally tipped the puck into their own net. Rey’s little team was ecstatic and came off the ice cheering after fist-bumping their opponents.

Rey still didn’t speak to Phillip as they helped the kids off with their gear and prepared to go to the pizza party at Skaters. Rey began to sail out of the locker room after the last kid left.

Phillip called her name.

She turned and looked at him. “Where the fuck were you? I called the store and Brett hadn’t seen you.”

He looked guilty. Fuck, just as she suspected.

“He said Chelsea had been calling the store looking for you.”

Rey took satisfaction in the fact that Phillip’s mouth dropped open. He hissed at her. “You think I’m fucking her. Is that what you think?”

“I have no idea,” Rey said primly.

“Un-fucking-believable. You think I have that much energy that I can fuck you into the mattress and then leave to find my other girlfriend? I should be flattered, I suppose. If I wasn’t so fucking mad.” He paused to unclench his jaw. “Let me know when you want to be an adult and ask me what really happened.”

“Me? Me, be an adult,” Rey ground out. “That’s rich, baby Alt. Commitment much? No, you don’t.”

Phillip simply looked at Rey. “Excuse me.” He walked out of the locker room.

<>

Phillip felt sick. He paced the length of the locker room hallway, raking a hand through his hair. He’d tried to do something nice, and Rey believed the worst about him. She hadn’t even asked what happened or worried about whether he was all right or not. He was furious and wanted to say fuck it and walk out, but, instead, he gritted his teeth and made himself step inside Skaters to congratulate the kids and shake hands with proud parents. He and Rey ignored each other as much as they could in the small space. Phillip excused himself when his janky phone buzzed. Now, the fucking thing wanted to work, he thought bitterly. He took the call outside Skaters and heard the news.

He dashed outside quickly to see his brother driving the Suburban up to the door. He gave him a thumbs up and ran back inside the rink.

He slid into Skaters and raised his arms. “Everyone, I have news!” The place went quiet. “I was late today to the game because I was stalled out on the side of a road in my brother’s truck. So I apologize for that.” He didn’t look at Rey but plunged ahead. “Paul just drove up with a truckload of new hockey bags full of equipment for each and every player. Kids, your name is embossed on the bag. If you come outside, you can grab your new gear out of the trunk. Let’s go.” He led the way back out through the doors with kids and parents on his heels. 

Paul stood outside the door pulling bags out of the big trunk. He called out names and Phillip watched kids and families take the bags and dig in.

Kids ran up and hugged him  _ and  _ his brother. He got more handshakes and hugs than he could remember, even when his dad had passed.

He looked up suddenly and saw Rey standing in the doorway. She looked sad, guilty, and maybe a little proud. She gave him a round of applause and turned to walk back into the rink.

He wanted to follow but was still embracing people. Paul slapped him on the back before closing the trunk.

“All right, I have no idea what’s going on,” Paul said, “but somehow you managed to do a great thing and fuck up at the same time.” He nodded at the door. “She’s pissed--or something. Didn’t you call her?”

“My phone’s been acting up. I couldn’t get through. I managed to get you, but my phone was completely dead.” He pulled it out of his pocket to show Paul. “It’s been acting up for a while now and I just didn’t get it fixed.”

Paul patted Phillip. “She’ll understand. She’s halfway to forgiving you. If I had a nickel for every time I fucked up with Annie, I’d be a wealthy man. Let me know if I can help. We can have you two over for dinner or something. I’ll explain it to her.”

Phillip stopped himself from visibly blanching at the thought of Paul jabbering at Rey. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

<>

Phillip walked into the rink--on a mission. Another game had started on the North rink, but the South was empty. Usually, they had public skating there but it wasn’t time yet. He saw her out there, skating furiously, stick handling. Madder than a Sting-Rey.

He was mad too. He  _ hadn’t  _ fucked up and she thought the worst of him immediately. Fuck that, he thought to himself.

He stomped out to the Porsche, grabbed his gear, and slammed it down in the nearest locker room. He yanked on his skates. She was out of line, he thought. She was quick to judge and didn’t even give him a fucking fair hearing. He was not in the mood after being stranded without a working phone. Just his fucking luck.

Phillip snapped the straps shut on his helmet, pulled on his gloves, and grabbed his stick. If she wanted to be on the ice, then so did he. He was going to give her a lesson in jumping to conclusions.

She spotted him immediately and kept skating. He warmed up without her, while she shot grumpy looks in his direction. He sent them right back to her.

“Face off,” he hollered at her.

She skated up without a word and got into position. She had a puck in her hand; she dropped it between their sticks. Phillip fought the love of his life furiously for possession of that small disc. Rey rammed into him but he was stable on his skates and she bounced off of him. He could have dropped her on her cute little ass, but he didn’t want to contend with bruises when he fucked the living shit out of her later. Because he planned to edge her until she begged and then he was going to take her in every position he could think of. Just because she was being an idiot and just because he loved her so very much.

Rey tried to trip him. He jumped over her stick. “Penalty,” he shouted.

“Come and get me, Alt,” she gritted.

He skated her into the boards and pinned her there with his bigger body. “I didn’t do anything wrong.” He pushed his body into her elbow with each word.

“I fucking know that,” she shouted and tried to punch his stomach. He pinned her tighter.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “My phone is shit and died on me after I called my brother.”

“You should have had him call me.” She kicked him and he let her go.

“I wasn’t thinking clearly, Rey. Yes, I should have but the only thing I could think about was getting myself to the rink--to be with you and the kids.” He skated behind her. “I’m doing the best I can. I’m not used to being part of a team.”

She whirled on him. “Don’t give me that. You’ve been on hockey teams all your fucking life.”

He rolled his eyes and skated up to her. He put his gloves on her shoulders. The look in her eyes made him pause. This wasn’t just about him not showing up on time. Something deeper was going on. 

“I don’t mean the hockey team. I mean  _ us _ . You and me as a team. I sent you a text this morning telling you what was going on. I kept trying to call but couldn’t get through. I was stranded on the side of the road with a truck full of gear. The truck and my phone went out at the same time.”

“Why’d you say you were at the store?” He saw Rey blink back tears. She sniffled.

“I was there for a minute to grab the receipt for the warehouse. I wanted to…” He stopped and laughed, a dry awful sound. “I wanted to make sure nothing would go wrong.”

“Brett said you hadn’t come in.” Rey’s voice hitched.

“Brett wasn’t there when I showed up. He was late to work.” Phillip waited. Rey looked like she had more to say.

“Chelsea…” She gulped, swiping tears away.

“Is a donor. Nothing more.” Phillip pulled his sweet woman in toward him. “She owns that flower store downtown and was willing to donate in exchange for an ad. I called her to ask because she’s someone I know. I don’t want to fuck her, I promise.”

“Ok,” Rey muttered.

“I love you,” Phillip said. He tilted her face up and pushed his lips out for a kiss like he’d done the first time. She kissed him. “What’s this really about, Pussycat?”

“Nothing,” Rey said and took off skating.

Phillip followed and matched her speed. “Tell me.”

Rey skated for a moment in silence. “Look, people show up for you. They don’t show up for me. I have no one to call if I get stranded.”

“Fuck if you don’t,” Phillip yelled. “You have me.”

“And then you don’t show up,” Rey snarled. She took a swipe at him with the stick. It caught him just right in the blade of his skate and he tripped. His feet went out from under him and he fell hard on his back and banged his head on the ice. Even with the helmet on, it hurt like a bitch. He lay there for a few, trying to take stock of what happened.

Rey gasped above him and dropped to her knees. “Oh, God. What did I do? Oh, I’m so sorry, Alt. I’m so sorry.” She touched his arms and ran her hands up and down his legs. He lay on the ice for a moment longer. Then he rolled over and stood. 

Rey gazed into his face. “I’m so sorry. My temper.”

He gritted his teeth and tore off his helmet. “Rey Johnson, if I don’t show up, please assume there is some good reason for it. I’ve been working so hard to become a redeemable asshole instead of an irredeemable one. So fucking, fucking hard.” He breathed through his nose before he lost his shit right then and there on the ice. He wanted to yell. He wanted to cry. He wanted to spank her and then fuck her.

“Okay,” she said meekly. “I believe you.”

He glared at her, knowing the stinger would come out some other time and she’d try to kick his ass. She’d better be prepared if she wanted to go toe-to-toe again.

He slapped the helmet back on and swiped the puck. “Come and get it, Sting-Rey.” And he skated off at full speed.

She came up behind him and tried to claim the puck. He held her off as any good defenseman can do. Again and again, she tried every maneuver at her disposal and Phillip held her off until...she found a way to catch the puck when he missed it after bouncing it off the boards. She took off like a shot and he watched her skate. He never tired of watching her skate like hell. She took it to the net and scored, then turned around to find him watching her. He raised his stick and then beat the ice with it, the sound of a hockey player clapping.

Rey’s smile was all he needed.

<>

Later, Rey writhed under Phillip’s tongue. He’d made good his promise to drive her crazy before he made her come. She was pulling his hair out but he didn’t even care. He made her beg before he let her come apart with his fingers up inside her and his lips wrapped around her clit.

She got her sweet revenge on him with her own whispered dirty talk as she licked every inch of his swollen dick. He finally pushed her over and buried himself inside her, thrusting into her hard and fast, and listening to her mewls of pleasure.

He groaned his love into her ear when he came and she bit his neck. 

Perfect. 

His Sting-Rey loved him.

#  Epilogue

Rey had to admit to being a little nervous that morning at the rink. The kids on the team were playing well in all their games and they looked great in their beautiful matching uniforms. But this game was part of the regional tournament and lots of people had travelled to see these matches: donors, families, and friends were all seated in the arena with cowbells and banners.

Phillip finished tying skates and stood up. Rey gave the pep talk and the little team was ready to go.

The kids skated out and Phillip and Rey took their places on the bench. They clasped hands, watching their team skate fiercely around the half-ice arena.

Rey watched the warmup skate for a few, then gazed across at the spectators. She saw parents, siblings, and a smattering of grandparents chit-chatting with the Altman family--from Phillip’s mother to Wendy, to Paul and his wife, Annie, and Judd and Penny. Wendy caught Rey’s eye and gave a little wave. Rey suspected they all felt better knowing Phillip and she were a team. Team Altman. Or Team Sting. They hadn’t decided yet.

The ref blew the whistle after the warmup. The kids skated back toward the bench for the group cheer, led by Rey’s favorite person in the world. Her best friend, her partner, fellow coach, lover--her redeemable asshole, Phillip Altman.

**Author's Note:**

> Crease: An area of the ice that extends from the goal line in front of the net, often shaped like a semicircle and painted in a different color.  
> Hat Trick: Scoring 3 goals in a game  
> Deke: When a player handles the puck or their movements in such a manner as to fool the opponent into moving.  
> Face-off: The method used to begin play at the beginning of a period or after a stoppage of play. The two teams line up in opposition to each other. One player from each team attempts to gain control of the puck after it is dropped by an official between their sticks onto a face-off spot on the ice.  
> Defensemen: Two players positioned further back on the ice than the forwards. They defend the goalie.  
> Forwards (Center, Left/Right Winger): Players whose primary zone of play is the middle of the ice, unlike the defense who play farther back.  
> Line: A group of players, a combination of a left winger, center, and right winger. First line is the group that goes out on the ice at the start of a game.  
> Boards: Glass walls that surround the playing surface.  
> Stickhandling: The act of controlling the puck with one's stick, especially while maneuvering through opponents.  
> Snowploy stops: Also called hockey stops, players slide to a stop on ice sideways.  
> Mountains: Sprints on ice while crossing the rink. Players skate to a certain location, hockey stop, and skate back to the net. It's a skating drill.


End file.
